The 21st Century New Age Alien-ET Agenda: poems and journalism

1ST Pamphlet.......................

EARTH TO BE DESTROYED

Poems & Journalism by

Michael Dargaville

Copyright (c) 2024

LIBERTARIAN SOCIALISM AS THE BASIS OF THE SPIRITUAL NEW AGE MOVEMENT

By Michael Dargaville

The two major forces of the worldwide New Age movement - official alien disclosure and deep spirituality - must rest on libertarian socialism.

All three areas are entwined and are at the root of our current reality.

Currently benevolent loving advanced galactic human aliens surround
our planet in their spaceships. They are called the Galactic Federation.

Our planet will be destroyed by bad reptilian reptoid aliens if we do not officially join the Galactic Federation.

Governments are currently playing an extremely dangerous wait and see game (and have done so for more than 20 years)  because they don't won't to change the current basic financial structures of the  planet which are based on the super capitalism of thousands of billionaires and high end multi-millionaires. (more…)

Tribute to Sai Baba and other New Age Tales: poems and journalism

A TRIBUTE TO SAI BABA

By Michael Dargaville

I was sitting in a dirty internet cafe in the utterly beautiful coastal city of Beihai in Southern China when a newsflash went out across the brain dead “mainstream” internet media that Sai Baba had died.

I’d been living in Beihai in 2011 teaching casually and swimming in perfect surf beaches and generally having the time of my life.

My first reaction to Sai Baba’s death was utter disbelief. It was commonly thought Sai Baba would die at the age of 96. Yet dying in the middle of his eighties was not figured into the cosmic equation.

Sai Baba of course is the world famous Indian guru and holyman who had a following of nearly 100 million people around the world.

However, within minutes I quickly realised Sai Baba had to die before 2012. 2012 was such a major event and Sai Baba had been the Spiritual Leader of Planet Earth during the great changes up until 2012. He was the Kalki Avatar. All around the world devotees wailed and cried, including me.

Within a few days after Sai Baba’s death the world media had reverted to their daily fascism and misinformation. And the death of Sai Saba was just another distant brief news item. The bulk of the western media was utterly beyond humanity in its ability to promote war, support the killer billionaires that own most of the western industry and generally, completely, MISINFORM, on virtually all events. (more…)

My Dear Other

By William T. Hathaway

Loving the other through mutualities of hurt,
loving the other without understanding the other,
groping in darkness to find the other,
blundering towards and beyond the other,
fleeing at the sight of the other,
escaping from exile to greet the other,
yearning for and recoiling from the other,
two planets swinging in cross-orbit around the sun of our love,
a sudden glimpse and then gone
but ever returning,
always affirming,
Yes, this is our way,
there can be no other.

William T. Hathaway’s books won him a Rinehart Foundation Award and a Fulbright professorship in creative writing. His peace novel, Summer Snow, is the story of an American warrior falling in love with a Sufi Muslim and learning from her that higher consciousness is more effective than violence.

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Silex Scintillans

By William T. Hathaway

“Seek and ye shall find,”
I keep telling myself,
seeking along in my sneakers,
trying to find the way back to you,
my source, course and goal.
The path gets steeper
as I clamber over scree slopes of past deeds.
In this deep karma the sneakers have no hold,
so I boot it in hobnails
until the path disappears midway
into flinty rocks of despair.
The sun drops, light deserts me,
but in the dark night my soles
strike sparks from the flint
to show the way. But I stray
and am lost. I cry out,
and the sound bounces back from you,
steering me by sonic echoes.
Again I slip away, and they fade.
Bereft of hope, I can only surrender.
Body sinks to the ground;
mind sinks to its ground –
awareness without thought,
consciousness without an object.
There, humming and glowing, is your name, (more…)

Surf the Apocalypse | Jamming in Prime Time

By William T. Hathaway

Surf the Apocalypse

We stand on doomsday’s beach
watching waves rise and crash,
breathing the brisk and final breeze.
Shiva holds in one of his four arms
a surfboard carved from a bodhi tree,
His partner Durga and their son Ganesh
stand beside him, boardless.
I clutch a battered styrofoam body board,
knuckles white.
Over the waves gallops a white mare –
mane and tail streaming.
Kalki, the last avatar, rides her –
white beard streaming,
blowing his conch and shouting,
“Time’s up!”
Shiva paddles with four hands through the surging surf.
Shivering, I flop onto my board and try to keep up with him.
Durga and Ganesh mount the air and drop onto the waves.
She rides them barefoot on a cushion of kundalini;
he skims them on ivory skates.
The sea swells and circles us,
whirling in rings that seem to rise,
but it’s we who are sinking into them.
The ocean becomes a funnel of fire
that doesn’t burn but caresses in farewell (more…)

Vacanas

Vacanas are short, informal poems of devotion to Shiva. They originated in South India during the tenth century, a time of social upheaval, and they took the side of poor against the rich, of spontaneous free expression against established orthodoxy, of passion against propriety. Our times are similar to those, so they speak to us across the millennium and are now enjoying a revival by contemporary poets. (more…)

Trumped-up wars

By William T. Hathaway

"Obey me or die!"
the orange-haired man threatens the world.
"My drones know you're home,
and my missiles don't miss.
I'm Commander in Chief, CinC for short.
I'll sink you into the sea, fry you crisp,
burn you to dust with the push of a button.
I'll overthrow your governments,
strangle your economies,
jail your refugees.
I'm the trumpet of doom,
I'll turn your land into a tomb!"

CinC, this may shock you,
but there are higher commanders than you,
and to Them we appeal for peace
and deliverance from you:

"Jaya Jaya, Vinayaka
Hara Kailash
Durga Rakshakari
Rudra Shanti
Vidjayante Taram

Protect us from the orange fire
of the orange demon
and all his NATO agents of orange.
Disembody these demons, vanish them,
banish them into the dungeon of perdition
their deeds have built for them.

Om namah Shivaya"

***

William T. Hathaway's first novel, A World of Hurt, won a Rinehart Foundation Award, and his new one, Wellsprings: A Fable of Consciousness, deals with the environmental crisis as an old woman and a young man battle the corporations controlling our shrinking water supplies: https://www.johnhuntpublishing.com/cosmicegg-books/our-books/wellsprings. He and his wife, Daniela, direct the Transcendental Meditation Center in Oldenburg, Germany.

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Knowing God as Opposed to Knowing About God

The Varied Degrees or Psychic Circle Levels of Experiencing God

Niann Emerson Chase

Often I dance with abandon and joy when at a live performance, especially if the music has a beat that just will not allow you to be still, which includes many genres of music from many cultures—traditional and new. During those times of abandonment to joy, I feel such love for the musicians as well for those who are also dancing and swaying to the music. Even more, I feel love for life and for my First Lover, my First Beloved—God, the First Source and Center, the Infinite Creator and Upholder, the Universal Father. (more…)

The Deep Stillness

By Dr. Stewart Bitkoff

The deep stillness has returned.
Like a gentle wave making its way to shore;
Arriving on the early morning tide
With a sweet sea breeze
As traveling companion. (more…)

Waiting for the Beloved

By Dr. Stewart Bitkoff

I have come to the end of the road;
Having climbed many a hill
And walked across many a valley.
Always there was a burning,
Yearning in my soul to continue,
Climb and experience.

At the end of this trail
I have learned that only 2 things
Really matter: those I loved and the Beloved.
Everything else was part of the journey;
Keeping me going until I reached this point.

What lies on the other side of this hill?
Who can say: it is unchartered
And I am exhausted by the climb.
When tomorrow dawns
Perhaps there will be another adventure
And more things to go and do?

Or perhaps I will just sit here
In the sun and rain-
Waiting for the Beloved
To lead me by my hand?

-SB

___________

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